Birth of Bardic Magic
by Bard of the Glade
Summary: Magic is everywhere. It is the energy that makes up all life and controls the very elements themselves. Magic is alive, a creature untamed, a savage beast. Well, we know what they say about beasts and music.
1. Nature Sings

**This will be my first ever attempt at writing Fanfiction, constructive criticism is well received flames will make me cry.**

**There will be a pairing it just wont be announced till the character makes their first appearance.**

**Chapter One: Nature Sings**

Harry Potter sat morosely against the wall of his cupboard. He was hungry, not frighteningly so but enough to know a growing boy needed more than just what was left of the nights dinner. At the tender age of ten young Harry Potter learned quickly that want and need were two separate things. He needed food, so he could put aside his want of more to ensure he was allowed what little he got later. With a heavy sigh, he laid out on his ratty old mattress, pulling his thin covers up over his small frame. He ignored the small gnawing at his stomach and just as he was taking off his glasses to prepare for bed he heard it.

Music.

A soft melodious tune filtered in under the door of his cupboard. It was strange. His Uncle was a fan of powerful orchestral marches. With pounding drum beats and triumphant horns. However from time to time, in the late hours of the night, music would play. A single instrument, a pan flute, if he had to guess, would softly break the silence of the night. The tune was never frantic or jaunty, it played in tones soft and low like a lullaby.

Harry was up in a flash, ear pressed against the door of his cupboard, taking in every note. The tune struck a chord in his heart, it breathed life into him like a soft breeze kindled a dying flame. He prayed each day for a night such as this, ever since he first heard the music it was all he wanted. He wanted so badly to rush out of his cupboard and take it, take it and make it his because his 'family' did not deserve something so beautiful. Alas, the door was locked as it always was. He went back to his bed and laid there once more as the music continued to play, filling him with its' warmth. He fell asleep a few minutes later, a rare smile on his face.

On the other side of the door sat Petunia Dursley. She held a set of pipes in her hand, the polished wood felt cold like steel as she held back tears that threatened to spill. She trailed a shaking hand over the juvenile engraving that rested on the pipes.

"L.E. & P.E."

It wasn't often that the weight of her sins fell upon her like this. It was even less often that she dug through her old childhood belongings for the reed pipes she and he sister had made as children, with the help of their father. Less often than that did she sit in the quiet of the night and play it like she once did in happy days. Too prideful was she to make up with her beloved sister, and now, held hostage by love for her son, she stood by as her nephew was mistreated by her husband Vernon.

She tried to do well by him when she could. Taking smaller servings at dinner, buying clothes a size too small for Dudley then misplacing the receipt. She knew though that if she did all she could, if she stood up to her lout of a husband he would leave and take her son with him and she could not bear that pain.

So selfishly she allowed the mistreatment to go on, she only wept openly on these nights when she played. She listened closely and could hear as Harry pushed himself against the door. It brought a smile to her heart that the child could still find joy in music as she and her sister once had. Then just as quickly that smile was whipped away as the door handle shook lightly and then a small sigh was heard, then his weight left the door with a creak.

She sat there for another hour. The ghost of her beloved sister at her side as she thought long and hard on her choices up to this point. It was early morning when she came to her decision. She quickly grabbed a pen and paper and with a steady hand wrote out a note. Folding the note upon itself into a tight roll, she stuffed it into one of the pipes of the flute. Then she tucked it safely away in the front pocket of her kitchen apron.

With the creak of wood her husband made his way down the stairs with his hair askew.

"Why hasn't the boy started on breakfast yet?" He asked gruffly.

This was it, her last chance to turn back from the choice she had made.

"He seems to have come down with something." She lied smoothly. "He had a coughing fit, it's a wonder he didn't wake you with his moaning. Better we leave him in his cupboard for the day rather than risk catching whatever he has contracted."

Vernon grunted in affirmative and set about making a bowl of cold cereal. Dudley came down a few minutes later and did the same. After they had both eaten their fill Vernon set about getting ready for work, while Dudley was dressed and out the door in a matter of moments, looking to enjoy his weekend. An hour later Vernon was out the door, although Petunia waited until she heard the car leave the drive way before she sprang into action.

She quickly opened the cupboard door to find her nephew curled tightly in his ratty blanket. Once again the truth of her crimes fell upon her and she stifled a sob before regaining her composure. With a shaking hand she gently jostled Harry. The little boy shook his head and moan lightly his eyes fluttering, then all at once he shot up like a bullet.

"Aunt Petunia!" He stammered. "I'm, I must have slept in, I, It was an accident I promise!"

Petunia shushed him, grabbing his school bag from atop one of the shelves in his room. It was an old thing made of worn brown leather with a simple draw string and single shoulder strap.

"Come now, we haven't all day." She told him.

She quickly made her way to the kitchen, taking a old coffee tin from atop the refrigerator. Peeking inside, she nodded at the hefty amount of folded bills. She had been setting aside money for the longest time unsure of why, it seemed now that she was subconsciously always preparing for this day. The day she finally did right by her charge.

She stuffed the tin into the worn leather book bag and swiftly made her way back to Harry's cupboard. Harry was still whipping sleep from his eyes as he laced his trainers and tied one of Vernon's old belts twice around his waist to hold up the pants that were two sizes too large for him. Petunia looked him over with a frown.

"This won't do." She concluded.

It was an hour later that Harry found himself standing at a bus station, his Aunt Petunia handing him a ticket and running over a checklist of his belongings. She had taken him to purchase new clothes. Five sets to be exact. They all fit, though very snugly, in his book bag which was now labeled his traveling bag. She had also gotten him a brand new pair of hiking boots. Along with them came a travel sized map of the U.K.

It was the most confusing day of his life. His Aunt who had hardly given him the time of day before, was now dragging him about town and buying him all the simple things he had wanted all his life. The fresh scent of a new t-shirt was strange thing, but he found he liked it. He found himself smiling brightly as she dragged him from rack to rack holding out various shades and styles of clothing for him to try. Maybe it was finally happening, maybe his Aunt was finally going to accept him as a part of her family. Maybe she would tuck him in to bed like she did Dudley, maybe she'd hug him tightly when he came home from school, or kiss his cheek when he got good marks in class.

These hopes, like so many others were dashed quite completely as he stared at his bus ticket.

"Surrey-to-Devon, One Way-Departs 1:30PM 'Bus 18'"

"You're getting rid of me?" He asked in a small voice, head turned down, unwilling to show his tears. No matter how horrid he had been treated, they were still the only family he had. To be completely unwanted was a horrible pain to endure.

With a sob Petunia sunk to her knees, wrapping her arms around the young boy in front of her.

"No Harry!" She cried. "Not getting rid of you, no, I am saving you from myself!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Unsure what to do with his arms he kept them at his sides and choked out "I don't understand."

Petunia sighed, pulling back so that her hands rested on the boys small shoulders. She stared into his eyes, those piercing green eyes so much like her sisters.

"Harry, I am not as brave as my sister was." She lamented. "I can't stand for my own beliefs and protect you as I should."

Harry looked stricken at the mention of his mother.

"But you said-"

"I have said a great many things Harry, very few of which I am proud of." Petunia stated. "What I told you of your mother was a lie born of jealousy."

She reached into her pocket, producing the pan flute with the note still in it. She tucked it into his coat pocket.

"Everything you need to know is in there." she said.

She quickly hugged him once more, this time Harry shyly returned the hug his small arms barely touching fingers across her back. Petunia pulled back and lightly kissed his temple.

"I am so sorry Harry..."

And with that Petunia Dursley exited the life of Harry James Potter, unsure whether or not she would ever see him again.

Harry boarded his bus_,_ the driver not giving him a second glance having seen young children riding the bus before to visit family. Harry stared out the window as the concrete buildings gave way to dense forests and sprawling fields. It was an hour and a half into his trip when Harry finally decided to take a look at the instrument his Aunt had given him.

It was a simple set of reed pipes, bound by a leather cord which was braided with yarn of many colors. Faded though they were, the woven patterns were still beautiful. He then saw the folded paper rolled into one of the pipes. Gingerly he slid the note out and with shaking hands unwound it.

_Dear Harry,_

_I am sorry. I have made a great many mistakes in my life. However, my greatest shame is the treatment you have had to endure at the hands of myself and my brutish husband._

_I pray for your mother's strength as I plan to send you away today. I pray for the strength to do what is right. To sacrifice my own redemption in order to give you the chance at a life you deserve. I want so badly to put your Uncle in his place. To tell him he is not the kind man I married any longer. _

_If I could have the strength to say this to his face, I would then take you from your cupboard in place you in the room I had prepared for you when you turned five. The room that your Uncle said you did not need, that could be put to better use. I would take you and make you a part of the family I had always hoped to have. The family my sister and I had, one full of love._

_I am not as brave as my sister, I was never as smart or talented. I cannot stand up to your Uncle because if I did he would leave me. He would take your cousin Dudley, my beloved son, and leave me penniless and unable to provide for your welfare, let alone my own._

_In the end all I can do is send you off and hope you find your way to others like yourself, others who could give you the life you deserve. _

_Now Harry I know you have no reason to trust my after all these years of mistreatment, but please believe me when I say you are special._

_Special like your mother and father were._

_You Harry, are a wizard. _

Harry stared at the words on the paper open mouthed. A wizard? As in capes and hats full of bunnies?

_No, not a showman. Not a magician who employs slight of hand and fancy tricks to fool the eye. You Harry are a wizard, a special kind of person who can use magic to change the world around you._

_Your father was a wizard and your mother, my sister, was a witch._

_Now, your parents did not die in a car accident as you have been lead to believe. I don't know all the details but I do know that there was a evil wizard running amok and your parents were fighting against him. Your parents went into hiding for some reason, your mother had contacted me shortly before they left. I don't know how but that madman found them, you were the only survivor and apparently the mad man died that very night._

_That was the same night you ended up on our doorstep._

_The reed pipes you hold in your hand were made by your mother and I, with the help of our father. Before you mother got her Hogwarts letter, the letter that let her know she was a witch and was going to a special school to learn to control her magic. We used to run down to the park and take turns playing it, looking back I am surprised that I hadn't noticed that she was witch. She sent it to me the night before they went into hiding._

_I was always the better player, that is one thing I had over her. But still I would always love to listen to her play. She stumbled over the notes and more often than not her tune rambled on with no definite rhyme or reason. Yet, when I laid on the grass listening to her play the sun seemed to be that much brighter. The warm summer wind would blow and the leaves would dance in time with her music. Looking back, I should have been happy have shared that with her. It was magic. Pure and simple. _

_She kept it with her. They whole time she took a part of me with her, let a part of me into her world. And I, I wanted no part of it. I am so ashamed of myself._

_I want you to have it to remember her by and, I selfishly hope, to remember me by._

_Music has a magic all its own Harry, it always did and it always will. Your mother made that magic come alive, and I am so very happy to have had a small part in that._

_~Aunt Petunia_

_P.S. The Bus station in Devon is a short hike from a village by the name Ottery St. Catchpole. Your mother once mentioned that a few wizard families lived around the village. From what I know of the wizarding world, it functions a bit more archaically than modern England. Applying for an apprenticeship or asking for odd jobs around the village may not be seen as odd as it would by today's standards._

Harry folded the note up and placed it into his travel bag. His mind was running wild trying to comprehend the truth. Him a wizard? It would be hard to believe coming from anyone but his no nonsense Aunt. So he was to go to a village out in the country where he would try and ease his way into this new society. It was a frightening prospect for the young boy, yet at the same time he was giddy with excitement. All he had known for so long where the walls of Number Four Privet Dr., and the school where he was taught. The promise of a whole new world, a world just for him, was amazing and he found himself longing for the adventures that awaited him.

It was two hours later that he awoke to the screeching of the bus brakes as it pulled into the small station. After asking directions he set off for the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was an hour before he reached the small village. It sat nestled between green hills and dark patches of forest. On the west side of the small village ran the river Otter. It babbled down the hillside and under humble wooden bridges that led into the surrounding countryside. The village itself was quaint. A line of shops and cafes sat along the river while a series of cottages sprang up amongst the hills and small spirals of smoke in the distance denoted more houses nestled there.

He meandered down he well worn path toward the village smiling as he made his was towards a large two story building. The sign hanging over the patio read "The Forest Green Inn" it seemed as good a place as any to start. Walking inside he was immediately assaulted by the most heavenly scent he had ever beheld in his young life. His nose carried him to the front counter. Passed the many polished wooden tables and chairs and the small number of patrons enjoying a cool drink at the bar. He found himself standing outside the door to what he presumed was the kitchens. The door was open, wedged as such by a small block of wood. There was man standing there with his back to the doorway.

Well, actually he was less of a man and more of a mountain. He stood just under seven feet tall, his arms were wide as tree trunks and shifting left and right as he stirred a large kettle from which the heavenly aroma was wafting. His skin was lightly tanned and he wore a simple white shirt and a pair of worn jeans, a brown apron was around his waist and he hummed a simple tune as he stirred. After a few moments he seemed to step back from his pot, nod to himself and then with a powerful grunt heave the hulking pot off the stove and turned about, heading for the door.

When he turned Harry was able to get a good look at the mans face. He had brown hair that just barely peeked out from under the gray flat cap he wore. From behind all he could see was the mans large broad back, but now he saw that he was a rather portly gentlemen. His physique was reminiscent of his Uncle Vernon except that where his Uncle was round all about Harry could tell that there was a thick layer of muscle beneath this mans girth. He had a kind face with a small splash of freckles across his nose and a rosy tint to his cheeks he only ever saw on his Aunt Marge after she had a few of her special drinks.

"Hello lad, I havn' seen ya roun' these parts afore'." He said as he hefted the pot through the door and onto a waiting pile of coals behind the bar.

Harry would have replied but his focus was on the thick cream colored stew that bubbled in the pot.

"Hungry are ya lad?" The man asked.

Harry's stomach roared in response.

"Well, let me be the first to welcome you to Ottery St. Catchpole, with a heaping bowl of Mac's famous stew, I'm Mac by the way."

The man reach under the counter pulling our a rather large bowl. He went to the pot and ladled out a serving, filling the bowl to the very rim. He set it in front of the hungry boy along with half a loaf of fresh baked bread and a wooden spoon. Harry dug into the dish with a vengeance, it was without a doubt the most delicious meal he had ever had. As the last bits of stew were drained from the bowl Mac came back towards him, having left to tend to the other patrons.

"Now that you've had your fill lad, tell me what brings you to Ottery? What's your name?" Mac asked.

Harry smiled; "It's Harry sir, Harry Potter. I came to Ottery to find someplace to belong. My Aunt said that I would be able to find my place here, I was told its a place where magic can happen."

Mac gave a deep laugh that shook his belly and reddened his cheeks.

"Well I don't know about magic, but here on the Otter we are always looking for an extra hand. I am sure you could find a place that could make use of strapping young lad like yourself."

Over the next month Harry worked around the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He would help serve the patrons at The Forest Green Inn most days. Mac set him up with a room so long as he pulled his own weight around the Inn. Mac never asked to many questions about why he came to be here. On one occasion Mac even complemented him on this. Saying that it was quite brave of him to strike out into the world, and quite kind of his Aunt to let him pave his own way. He became a common face on the river Otter. The village was small so you could hardly go a day without seeing most of its residents.

On days he wasn't working with Mac he was traversing the hills and forests that surrounded the city. Mac worried for his safety in his wanderings and gifted him with a old bone handled hunting knife. Harry never needed it even once but it was better safe than sorry. Mac also took a weekend off to teach him the finer points of fishing using only line, a hook, and whatever worms or grubs you could dig up. He taught him the proper way to roast a fish at a campfire and what plants could be used as natural seasonings.

On his journeys into the wilderness he was lucky enough to stumble upon a wondrous place. One day as he hiked a familiar trail just a mile outside the village he slipped on patch of grass laid heavy with morning dew. He tumbled end over end down hill. When he finally came to a stop he was at the mouth of a cave. Dusting himself off and checking himself for injuries, finding none, he turned his attention to the cave mouth.

It was a beauty in and of itself. The stone entrance was laden with vibrant blue morning glories that crept across the stone in beautiful contrast to the dark background. Harry inched forward, peering into the caves depths. There in the distance was a flicker of light. Curiosity pushed him to step into the cold air of the cave taking short, careful strides he watched as the light grew brighter and brighter until he reached the end and was blinded by the sudden light of the sun. When his vision cleared he had to gasp at the beauty that lay before him.

A magnificent forest glade.

A crystal clear pond sat at its center and the bed of the pond was made of a collection of smooth stones in various colors and patterns. A willow tree sat at the north end of the pond, its branches blowing in the breeze, its leaves dancing on the wind and twirling upon the water. Harry sat, mesmerized, under the willow tree and took out his pan flute.

From that day on he spent all his free time beneath the willow tree learning to play. It was here that he first experienced the magic of music. He remembered his Aunts description of the magic his mother wove through song. It was one cool spring day when he felt a need to play his pipes. Something inside him was begging to be let free. He brought the reeds to his lips and blew.

The notes came so easily. It just felt so right, each note flowed into the next seamlessly and soon the glade echoed with its melody. It was small at first, like a whisper or rustling leaves. Then it surged forth like an all encompassing wave. The wind picked up and the leaves that lay in the grass began to swirl about him in a maelstrom. He gasped as he pulled the reeds from his lips and the wind died in an instant. He fell back into the trunk of the tree gulping down air as he tried in vain to calm his racing heart.

The feeling was intense. It was as if the wind itself was responding to his music, he could feel it willing him to play. It whispered to him the tones it needed to hear. It taught him with each note how to guide it. How to harness it though song. Time and time again he would play and nature would reach out to him and guide his music. After a time he learned the ins and outs of the music of the wind. He formed a bond with the spirits therein with the innate magic in nature itself, it was then he learned that with music as his medium he could learn to guide the forces of nature themselves.

That wasn't the only thing he learned. As he played and learned he began to feel his own magic pulsing within his very blood. As of yet he could only manifest it into intense feeling. On weekend nights he would sit by the fire of the Inn and play his pipes. He would feel his magic pulsing from within and will it forward. And with his happy tunes feelings of joy would spring forth like a fountain. Anyone within ear shot could not help but smile if they heard the tune.

All in all he was beginning to love his new life in Ottery St. Catchpole. Spending his days working at the Inn or in the glade honing his magic. He wondered if one day he would receive a letter like his mother had. He hoped to meet others like him, others who could feel the music of nature. He didn't know that he was the only one. That he, Harry James Potter, was creating a hitherto unknown branch of magic each day in that glade.

It was another month before it happened. Harry had just finished helping Mac to cut firewood for the oven. He was coming thought the kitchen door when he heard something from the bar that made him stop.

"-Potter, he ran away from home a few months ago."

It was a woman's voice, aged yet dignified with a slight Scottish brogue.

"Harry?" Came the reply from one of the patrons. " He ran a-away from home did he? The way he and Mac make it out, he has his Aunts blessings to come to live on the Otter. To make his own way in life."

Harry inched towards the door peeking through the slight gap between the hinges and the wall he could see a woman speaking with a man he had come to know as Jim. She was wearing a odd flowing black robe type of dress, her hair was up in a tight bun, and she had a rather stern look on her face.

"So he is here then?"

"Aye," Jim replied. "quite a nice lad, hard worker, and a musician."

"Musician?" The old woman asked.

"Aye, he has this set o' reed pipes he plays like a man possessed." Jim said. "When he plays those pipes the most morose man in the world would have the sadness driven from him straight away. And it would be a fight to keep a smile from his face."

Jim took a drink from his mug.

"He's got such passion in him, and when he plays its like he's putting his very heart into the music and letting you feel just how happy it makes him."

Mac made himself known, coming through the side door after stacking the firewood Harry had helped chop.

"The whole town is quite fond of the boy Miss..."

"McGonagall, " she supplied. "Minerva McGonagall."

"Well, Miss McGonagall," Mac began. "As I said the whole town is rather fond of the boy, when he first came into my Inn he was a scrawny little thing..."

Harry had trouble arguing that point.

"But he had this look in his eye," Mac continued. "Said he was looking for someplace to belong, and someplace where magic happens."

There was a moment of silence before the the woman, McGonagall, spoke again.

"I should like to speak to Mister Potter, he has worried a great deal of people with his disappearance."

"Well, I am sure if you were to wait around a while the lad will be in,"Mac said."he has his own room at the Inn after all."

Harry bolted, through the kitchen and out the back door. He ran to his sanctuary, to the glade. He sat beneath the willow tree with his pipes to his lips and played. He didn't know how long he sat there playing. Just that by the time he took the pipes from his lips the moon was reflecting in the still waters of the pool. He wasn't sure who this McGonagall person was but she had been looking for him for a while it would seem. He was listed as a runaway...

Runaways were always returned home.

Return to Number Four Privet Dr., after all his Aunt went through to get him this far? After all he had seen and done?

No!

He would not give up his new found freedom! He would never see the inside of that cupboard again! One day, he would return to Number Four, but on that day he would return to tell his Aunt he'd found his way. He would thank her and then show her the magic he made because she cared enough to free him from his cage.

With his mind made up he drifted off to sleep beneath the stars.

The sun hadn't risen yet and he was at the back door to the Inn. He opened the door quietly as he could and tiptoed up the stairs to his room. Gathering his things up into his bag he surveyed the room that had been his home these last few months. He couldn't be more grateful to Mac for his generosity. He wrote a quick note to Mac and left it on his bedside table. He left just as quietly as he came and in a matter of minuets he was standing on a hill overlooking the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. With the sun at his back he began to walk, not sure where he was going but knowing that music would be left in his wake. He brought his pipes to his lips.

_Dear Mac,_

_I haven't found that place I belong yet. As for magic, well, I figure I'll make my own._

_I thank you for your kindness, and promise to come back and visit one day._

_~Harry J. Potter_

_**~End~**_

**Read and Review Please.**

**~Bard of the Glade~**

**Big thanks to my Beta Reader**

**-Phoenixica24-**

_**Three cheers are in order!**_


	2. Change in the Wind

**Wise-Wren-Owl, Lady Sakura Cosmos, Alexajke, and the Anonymous D. Thank you all so much for your support. I would never have written this chapter if not for your kind words.**

**Another round of applause for Phoenixica24! My fantastic Beta Reader!  
**

**Chapter 2: Change in the Wind**

Harry smiled as he took another bite of the strange little fruit he had found. It was small, orange, round, and it had skin like an apple that broke easily beneath his teeth. The slight waxy taste gave way to a pleasant sweetness. The fruit was very moist like a plum, but tasted like green grapes. They were scarcely larger than his fist so he ate at least five of them after his initial taste test.

It had been three weeks since he left the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole and life in the Otter Forest was a breeze for the young boy of ten. Spring was leaving, he could tell as the days began to get longer, and soon it would be the month of May. He lived off the land, having an assortments of fruits and berries for breakfast before setting off on a hike. Each day he would find a new place to sit and play his pipes.

He would sit for hours listening to nature work its magic around him and he would do his best to mimic its sound. He learned quickly that wind was the simplest aspect of nature to tap into with his music. Wind, he felt, was the epitome of freedom. It went where it wanted when it wanted and as such would easily allow his tune to guide it, as it had nothing pressing to do at the time. He found a friend in the wind.

A small tugging at his hair had him sending a glance at his shoulder. There was his little friend sending him a pleading look with his small golden eyes. Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

"I know that you can very well get your own Snag."

The creature squeaked indignantly before scampering off his shoulder and over to the base of a large tree where the bush that grew the peculiar fruit was. Now Harry knew magic existed from that first rush he felt in the glade but he didn't ever have physical proof until he met Snag and was introduced to his new favorite fruit.

Snag looked for all intense and purposes like a squirrel. He had a long bushy tail and scampered about on four feet made for climbing. That is where the similarity between Snag and the common squirrel ended. Where squirrel's where varying shades of brown and gray. Snag's fur was a soft lavender with three stripes of gray fur that ran the length of his body. His face was also gray, with a raccoon mask of lavender around his eyes. His tail itself was twice the length of his body, making it just over a foot long. On the top of his head, arching back, where a set of spiraling horns only a inch long and half an inch wide at the base.

Harry smiled as he watched the little critter make short work of the stem of one of the fruits. Soon the long stem of the fruit broke and Snag's prize began to float away. Harry smiled at the more astounding show of nature's magic. Like watching a flower burst into bloom, or the sun rise to greet the day. The small fruit began to rise into the sky like a little orange balloon. It was snatched up, however, by three furry arms as the last few inches of Snag's long fluffy tail separated and wrapped around it. And that was why Harry called him Snag.

Fruit still clutched in his tail, Snag scampered up the side of the tree a few feet before deftly pushing off. Spinning in the air, Snag spread his arms and legs, catching the wind in the skin that connected his front and back legs as he glided gently back to Harry's shoulder. He stood on his hind legs, his tail depositing the fruit in his little hands. With a small bite and a hiss of escaping air, Snag began to munch on his treat.

Harry was content to wander the forest with Snag on his shoulder communing with nature and learning more about its music. He had all the food he needed by way of fishing and foraging, he washed is clothes in the river and slept soundly beneath the many tall trees of the forest. It wasn't until the beginning of June that he was forced from his forest not by need for food or shelter, but by a cry for help.

Harry was walking along the edge of the forest where it met a large field tall green grass and rolling hills. Harry was contemplating leaving the familiar trees and streams of the Otter Forest and traversing the sea of green the rose and fell in the distance. That's when he heard the screaming.

"Mummy!"

He was off in a flash in the direction he heard it come from. The wind seemed to sense his urgency because it raged at his back, urging him onward. He came to the crest of a hill overlooking a low valley. At its center was another hill atop which sat what could only be described as an overly large rook from a chess board. A stream ran along the east side of the hill leading back to the forest, probably flowing into the Otter.

"Mummy!"

There was a small girl standing at the edge of the stream, he couldn't make out her features, but she was looking upward in what he could only guess was fear.

"Luna, darling please look away!" Came a second voice.

Harry searched for the voice, and, looking up, he found it. There in the sky, her blond hair billowing about her form in a furious gale was a woman. She looked to be balancing in the sky, but only just so as a gale would come and cause her to spin about.

As Harry stood there transfixed at the sight. Not because he was surprised at the flight of the woman, once or twice he felt himself being carried away along with his music on the wind. He always stopped then, for fear of what may happen. Was this what would have transpired?

No. He reached out to the wind in the valley and found it angry, something that he had never felt before. The wind was angry with this woman, what had she done.

"Mummy!" The little girl called again, unable to look away while her mother was in peril.

Harry's stomach lurched as the woman dipped in the air, only to be caught again. She could have fallen, she would have surely died from that height! In a fit of desperation he reached for his pipes and began to play to the wind of the valley.

First he played three sharp notes that cut through the cacophony of sound, piercing the raging winds and the cries of the young girl. Then he began to play in earnest, reaching a placating hand out to the wind of the valley. At first it continued to rage, but then he felt a warm breeze at his back as the familiar wind of the forest caught his notes on the breeze and carried them through the valley. Harry's heart was beating fast and he could feel his magic which once pulsed beneath his skin burst forth and follow with the wind. It was a exhilarating experience. He could feel the wind of the valley wild and untamed, he could feel its anger at the woman.

After a few moments of communing through his music allowing the valley to teach him the notes that the forest could not. Notes of the furious gale, notes of the terrible power of the wind. After he had learned not only the comfort of the wind but also its fury he could understand what the wind of the valley was trying to tell him.

She had sought to control it. Somehow this woman had thought herself lord over nature itself and sought to control the wind of the valley. Ever free and moving, the wind struck out against that which tried to take its' freedom. Harry learned that day that he never had any control over wind at all. He had just learned that through music and with his own inherent magic he could learn to speak the language of the wind. He could ask it to act and the wind, being free and unattached, could see no reason to deny his request.

With this revelation Harry redoubled his efforts at calming the wind of the valley. After what seemed to be a lifetime, but was in reality only a few minutes, the wind began to wane from a furious gale to a strong updraft that began to lower the woman softly to the ground. Harry let out a sigh of relief as he took the reeds from his mouth. Fatigue fell upon him in a great wave and he fell over onto the soft grass. He caught the incline of the hill and rolled down to the base of it. He had, with the last of his strength, hugged his pipes to his chest to protect them. His glasses, miraculously, were still perched on his nose though very much askew.

The last thing he saw before falling into the darkness that was clouding the edges of his vision was two pairs of pale silvery eyes.

Harry groaned as he sat up in a strange bedroom. The walls were oddly round and lined with painting after painting of flowers and small animals. They weren't the masterpieces by any means, but still he felt they were pretty in their own simple way. It had a large bay window like his Aunts in the kitchen which looked over the back garden. Only where his Aunts had sat over the sink and was rather small, this one was large and was set into the wall with a small cushioned seating area.

"Oh," came a voice from the door. "you're awake, then, Harry?"

Harry saw a woman walk in with a tray on which sat a steaming plate. It was the same woman that he had rescued from the valley's wind. She was wearing a dress that was of a flowery pattern, which changed colors in layers starting from her waist to where it billowed at her feet. She had long, dirty blond hair that was held in a braid falling down her back. A few strands framed her face making her silvery-blue eyes shine. His eye was drawn quickly to the tray as his rumbling stomach made itself known. Roast beef and potatoes,with corn and a sweet roll. She set it over his lap and to his surprise it hovered there of its own accord. He was so very drawn by the scent of food that he nearly dug in before something hit him.

"How do you know my name?" He asked defensively.

"I should think that every Wizard or Witch in Britain would know you Harry Potter." She said with a smile.

"But," She added. "I wouldn't want to be unfair so my name is Filia Solis Lovegood, but my friends call me Fili. If you must, I will accept Mrs. Lovegood, but it makes me feel dreadfully old."

"Mrs. Lovegood," She frowned playfully at this."how would everyone know my name?"

Mrs. Lovegood's eyes lost their playful sparkle as she suddenly leveled him with a look of appraisal.

"You mean you don't know," she asked tentatively. "about the night you gained that scar?"

Harry's hand went to his forehead he traced a finger over his scar. He hadn't thought of it in a while and while the note from his Aunt didn't mention it he assumed that he had gotten it the night that madman had attacked his parents. He couldn't have gotten it in that nonexistent car crash after all.

"All I know is that my parents died the night I got this scar, and the person who gave it to me died that night too."

Mrs. Lovegood sighed.

"Harry, you enjoy your dinner, then when you are done I will tell you all I know."

So she did. After Harry had eaten and the plates were set aside she told him all she knew of his legend, about the people who he apparently saved. His mother had sacrificed herself to protect him and in doing so apparently shielded him from a deadly curse. The man who cast it at him was apparently destroyed by his own spell. By the end of it Harry was quite shocked.

He was a hero for surviving the killing curse. He was known as "The-Boy-Who-Lived". Vanquisher of "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named", or Lord Voldemort as Mrs. Lovegood told him with only slight hesitation.

"So now that you know, Harry, what brought you to our home today," She asked. "not that I am not happy you came when you did."

"I was in the forest when I heard that girl-"

"My daughter Luna." Mrs. Lovegood supplied.

"I heard Luna yelling. I came as fast as I could cause she sounded like she was in trouble."

"That is very kind of you Harry." Mrs. Lovegood noted with a smile.

"Thank you," He said with a blush." Anyway, I came over the hill and saw you in the air-"

Harry stopped for a moment a question coming to mind.

"Why was the wind angry with you Mrs. Lovegood?"

She looked confused.

"What do you mean Harry?"

Harry shifted slightly.

"Well I figured by now that you must be a witch," she nodded at this. "so you being older would have more experience and know that you can't order the wind to do something."

Mrs. Lovegood took a moment to think this over. When it had happened she had been experimenting with a spell to help gather up the dying petals of the spring flowers before they rotted away in the summer sun. She had seen the wind pick up a few colorful petals and a though came into her mind. Use the wind. So she set about re-working her spell, rearranging the wand movement and re-articulating the words. With a nod she began her first trial run as her daughter raced leaves down the stream.

It went horribly wrong. The wind picked up into a frenzy and she went flying end over end into the air. The tears in her daughters eyes as she was powerless to help her mother. Her own anguish as she realized her wand had fallen from her hand and she was now at the mercy of the wind. Then she remembered the sharp tones of Harry's pipes and the frantic tune he began to play and the strange feeling as a new wind blew around her, this one warm and comforting. It was a strange and beautiful magic, and it seemed that it was all very much intentional she found herself wanting very much to understand more of it.

"Harry," She spoke." could you explain to me what you did to save me, and what you mean by ordering the wind?"

Harry nodded. After all, he owed her for the information on his parents, and he saw no reason not to tell her. He explained how he first touched the magic of nature, how the wind responded first to his call, and how he learned how to speak to it through magic and music. Mrs. Lovegood listened attentively to his words, finding it remarkable that magic could work in such a way. She resolved to no longer try and craft elemental spells. Spells like Aguamenti and Incendio she knew were from the school of conjuration. The fire and water was a manifestation of your magic shaped into an element through spell work. Controlling the elements, she was learning, was not taken lightly by the magic within nature itself.

"Remarkable," she said when he was finished. "Harry, you are truly brilliant. You are creating a brand-new form of magic!"

"You mean, there aren't others who can do this?" He asked.

"If there were Harry," she replied. "I would have at least a passing knowledge of them and there would have been warnings against tampering with nature's magic when I went to Hogwarts."

"So they don't teach this at Hogwarts?" Harry mumbled.

"No, I should say they don't. The closest to any music program at Hogwarts is Professor Flitwick's choir."

Harry nodded, though he didn't know who this Professor person was. Harry resolved then that he would stay away from Hogwarts as long as he could manage. He wanted to cultivate this magic he was creating. He knew in his heart that his mother had touched this magic before! And yet no one had ever heard of it? Whatever this Hogwarts that had caused his mother to forget this wonderful magic was, he didn't want any part of it.

"You should get some rest Harry." Mrs. Lovegood told him.

The sun had long since set in the sky, and the only light was a set of candles in the window. Mrs. Lovegood put them out with a wave of her wand, a tool Harry was unsure he could ever give up his pipes for, and went to the door.

"Harry," she said. "there have been whispers of a young runaway, the residents of Ottery St. Catchpole have been told to be on the lookout for a black haired, green eyed boy."

Harry stiffened.

"I can't say I have seen anyone by that description." She added. "Have you?"

Harry awoke the next morning to a familiar smell, bacon being fried up on the griddle. His stomach gave a growl of appreciation and he tentatively made his way down the stairs still slightly uncomfortable in the house of his new acquaintance. On his way down the spiraling stairs he saw a few other doors but ignored them following his nose. The bottom floor of the house seemed to be one large room separated into parts. A kitchen and dining room, a family room, and a den complete with fluffy chairs and a bookshelf full to bursting.

"Good morning Harry!" Called Mrs. Lovegood. "Please have a seat."

He took the only open chair to the left of the blond haired girl he saw the day before. She was eating a piece of toast that was spread with an orange jam of some kind. When he sat down she sent him a smile that lit up her silver-gray eyes. With the toast already in her mouth to take a bite, she looked as if she was merely pleased at the taste.

"My name is Luna." She said after finishing her bite.

"Harry." He replied.

"I know." She nodded. "Thank you for saving Mummy."

Harry smiled. "It was no problem."

She seemed to accept this as fact because she went back to her toast.

There was a man sitting across from him, he noted. He had long white hair that fell about his shoulders and was wearing a shirt of flower print that reminded Harry of the shirts his Aunt Marge would buy his Uncle.

He was reading a magazine of some kind, but Harry couldn't make out the words due to the fact that it was held upside down. After a time, and a few strips of bacon Harry ate alongside a spoonful of eggs, the man set his magazine aside. As if just now realizing where he was, he piled food onto his plate and then addressed Harry.

"Hello there Harry," He said jovially. "I'm Xenophilius Lovegood, you've already met my wife and daughter. I would like to thank you personally for what you did, I shudder to think what would have happened to my dear Fili."

Harry smiled, happy to have helped, he gasped however as Xenophilius lifted a small overturned wicker basket from on the table and with a searching hand reached up into it. He pulled out a familiar orange fruit. He mast have seen the look on Harry's face because he then said:

"Have you ever had a dirigible plum Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"I had no idea what they were called, but they are my favorite!" He replied. "They grow in the forest just beyond this valley, Snag loves them too!"

"Snag?" Xeno questioned.

"Yes, Snag, he is kinda...well he's not a pet." He tried to explain."He is more like a little friend I met in the forest. He loves my music and when I first met him he gave me a dirigible plum to eat. If you'd like to meet him I am sure he'd come if I played."

After breakfast the Lovegood family went outside, Fili having given Harry his pipes which she had set aside for him while he slept.

Harry stood just a few yards from the Lovegood home and began to play, starting with a sweep of each of the low toned reeds. He willed his magic into the notes and dedicated a few to ask that the wind carry his tone into the forest. After a moment he stopped. He stood with the Lovegood's for a full minute and was going to play again when a lavender blur scurried out from the grass up his leg and round his neck four times before resting on his shoulder.

"Hey there Snag." Harry laughed as the little guy chattered and squeaked angrily.

"I did not leave you," Harry countered. " You just couldn't keep up. To many dirigible plums it would seem."

Harry was unsure, but he always felt Snag was a bit smarter than the average animal. So when the little guys tail unfurled and lightly cuffed him on the cheek he wasn't all that surprised. He turned to introduce him to the Lovegoods only to find two beaming girls and one shocked man.

"I told you Xeno!" Fili said excitedly. " They were just as real as your Hallows, and low and behold a living Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Oh, if only I had my camera, the old thing finally fell apart on me last week!"

"Don't worry Mummy!" Luna said brightly. "I can paint it, I have been practicing!"

She rushed back into the house returning with her paint set and an easel. By that time Snag had found a new perch atop Fili's head munching on a dirigible plum she had offered him.

"What's so special about Snag?" Harry asked as Luna went about setting up her station to paint.

"Well, you see my mother was a magical zoologist." Fili began. " She studied magical animals like dragons and unicorns."

Harry nodded noting in the back of his mind that dragons and unicorns existed now.

"Well she once spotted one of these little guys," she indicated Snag. " in the forest and was flabbergasted. She had never heard of an animal like it. She spent her life trying to find them, but after that first sighting they eluded her for years."

Fili lifted Snag from his perch and held him gently to her chest.

"This little guy is proof that all my mother's tireless searching was not a fool's errand."

"Snag is the only one I have ever seen, but I'm sure there are others!" Harry said.

"Harry," Luna called. "could you set Snag over her on the grass so I can start?"

Harry nodded offering his arm to Snag who leapt from Fili's embrace and scurried to Harry's shoulder. Harry then let him down on the grass just in front of Luna's easel and gave him one of the plums that Fili had offered him.

Luna went behind her easel and took from the corner a black beret.

"You can't paint properly without a proper painting hat." she said setting it on her head at a tilt.

She took an artists palette from a hook on the side. It was already stained with many bright shades and odd mixes of color. She then held her thumb up clutching her paintbrush. She measured Snag with her thumb from every angle. Her tongue peeking out from between her pressed lips, a remarkably cute parallel of an artist contemplating her subject. Her silver-gray eyes squinted before she nodded curtly and began to paint.

Harry tried to walk around and get a look at it but was surprised to find himself with a purple nose as Luna forced him a way at brush point.

"You can see it when its done, an artist doesn't reveal her secrets!" She said.

"That's magicians." Harry stated.

"Magicians aren't the only people who have secrets Harry, be reasonable." she smiled.

It was an hour later when Luna finally stepped back from the easel. After looking over her work a few times she deemed it ready for the general public. She took off her hat and set down her brush. After whipping down her palette with a rather colorful old rag she set it on its hook.

"I present, Snag the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, by Luna Lovegood!" Luna said with a smile.

Harry had to say, it was a pretty picture. He wasn't an artist himself, but he could tell she put a lot of heart into the painting. It was set to a backdrop of bright green. Snag himself was as well detailed as the young artist could manage. His shape was loosely defined as the upper and lower portion of his body were the same color and thus molded together. The orange dirigible plum helped to put the image into perspective. Snag's little claws were represented by small black triangles. His long bushy tail had the signature three stripes and was spread into three at the end, as Luna had seen him grab on of the dirigible plums offered to him.

"It's great." Harry said.

"Yes," Fili added. "your Gran would be so proud of you Luna!"

"A masterpiece if I ever saw one." Xeno added.

Harry smiled as the two parents continued to lavish praise on their daughter and Luna explained to them her choices of color and what parts where harder to paint than others. He had dinner with them that night where Luna regaled him tales of her adventures wandering the hills of the valley. In return he told her all about the forest and the many springs and glades he had found. She told him about her friend Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley, and the games they would play and of said girl's long list of brothers. Harry told her about the time spent playing tag with Snag, and the music he loved to play.

That night Harry had a captive audience as he was requested to play again and again by the family of three. He slept in the guest room, having only used Luna's room the night before due to the urgency of his condition. He had needed to be put to bed and the guest room had not been made up. He played one last song on his pipes, reaching inside him and filling the notes with his magic. It came with much more ease than it ever had. He played a lullaby, sweet and low, and it floated through the house, bringing with it the lull of sleep. Luna would later say that she had never had a better night's sleep in her life, and Xeno and Fili could not argue that fact.

Harry awoke before the dawn. He had made up his mind the night before that he would be leaving the rook today. He wrote out a quick note, which he left on the kitchen table. He had a lot more to do, he couldn't let himself become complacent. He needed to keep moving, to keep learning and gaining experience. Most importantly he needed to learn more about this magic he was creating. He was surprised to find that it was an art entirely his own. One that he needed to perfect. He trailed his hand over the engraving on the pipes. He owed it to himself, and to his Aunt and Mother. He slipped out the door and into the wide open world again.

_To the Lovegood Family,_

_Thank you for having me, I will always remember your kindness._

_Luna, I may come back one day. I know you'll end up in that Hogwarts place. I may end up there too, and I would feel better if I knew a friend was there with me.  
_

**~End~  
**

**When I first began this story I had this image of a well traveled Harry with a lot of world experience. I likened his traits to that of the Bard character class in DnD. They are jacks of all trade, they know a bit about everything and always have a story to tell. They are charismatic and know how to make friends, even out of enemies if needed. If a bard wants you to like him, you'll be hard pressed not to. Smooth talking and knowledgeable, Bards make a living of simply living.**

**There are a few twists to his character that will be revealed later, but have to do with the time he ****spends abroad. **

**That being said I feel the need for a few small time skips, mostly because to write all his adventures and as much detail as I have these would be tiresome and at times make for a boring read. I may one day release a series of short stories on his many adventures or write on or two paragraphs as a bonus at the end of a chapter.**

**The pairing will be Harry and Luna, and I hope that isn't a problem with people. I happen to think they have a lot of chemistry. I always thought the fact that Harry thought of Luna before kissing Cho meant something.**

**I digress, please read and review I look forward to hearing from you.**


	3. Of Travels and Death

**My Internet went out, I had actually hoped to post this the day after chapter two! So enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Chapter Three: Of Travels and Death**

Harry was having the time of his life. After leaving the Lovegood home he had set out into the countryside. He had seen a few other homes including one that seemed to defy logic by standing despite its shape. He had spied a few red haired kids flying about on what looked to be broomsticks. Harry had nearly choked on his apple at the sight of it, broomsticks, really. It did however get him to give serious thought to the prospect of flight. It sure would make his travels easier.

He spent a week working at it, and was able to get himself off the ground but couldn't direct the wind to carry him it was just to hard. He wanted to soar in the sky like he had seen those kids do. After another week of failed flight experiments he went for a different approach.

"Alright," he said to the sky. "I yield to your better judgment!"

With that he began to play his pipes reaching out with his magic, communing with the wind. He asked it to carry him away, somewhere, anywhere. Someplace fresh and new. He watched as a wind picked up about his form, and blades of grass were torn from the earth tickling his skin as they swirled around and around him.

Then it happened.

His feet began to disappear! Slowly fading as the wind picked up around him. He stopped playing but could still hear the music, it danced on the wind and reaching out he could feel his own magic singing in concert with that of natures. He watched as he faded from view and when all that was left was his head he nodded to himself and with a laugh let go and was whisked away on the wind itself. All that was left was an echoing tune.

That's how Harry found himself having the time of his life, in a local tavern that sat on the beaches of the Bay of Biscay in the city of La Rochelle. It was his birthday, he turned eleven today. He currently stood atop the table in the center of the tavern swaying with the music he was belting from his pipes. All around him the patrons are cheering and dancing and clanging mugs as he plays a frantic jig that fills the room with a joyous energy. He had spent the last two months working as a table cleaner at "Rai d'Or" which he now knew meant "Ray of Gold".

He was lucky that the owner spoke English and was willing to instruct him in french in exchange for his services. He didn't ask many questions, for which Harry was grateful, and in the course of two months he had become nearly fluent in French. Like back in Ottery he was quickly a favorite of the bar patrons and within weeks he had a following that would come in and request songs. The owner and bartender Claude was happy to have him now as he brought in new customers it seems words spread of the young green eyed youth and his magic pipes.

He finished his song with a flourish and the people cheered again as he took a bow. With a swift hop he was off his perch and with a towel over his shoulder set about cleaning up a few of the tables the rowdy guests had messed. It was as he was wiping down one particularly stick table that he overheard a conversation going on in the corner of the room.

"So you got her?" Spoke a burly man with a lit cigar clutched in his fingers.

"Yes, it was rather simple really," Spoke the thin to his left. "just snatched her up just as she was leaving that park we know she frequents."

Harry began to clean a bit slower, it wouldn't do to not hear the rest of this conversation. It sounds like something horrible may have befallen someone.

"A quick stunner and that was that."

"Where is she now?" The large one spoke again.

"Up in my room," The other laughed. " got her in through the fire escape. Claude would call in the Auror's on us in a heartbeat if he knew, and that's why we are here. They trust Claude they know he's clean and they won't think to look here till its too late."

Harry frowned as he finished up that table he was cleaning then made his way to the bar. Very few people ever take rooms upstairs as there are plenty of hotels nearby that are more accommodating. Checking the ledger Harry smirks, only one room rented out tonight.

He looks over to the two at the table and see's them drinking deep from to frosty mugs. They must be celebrating whatever horrid crime they seem to think they were going to get away with. Not while Harry Potter is on the case. Harry discreetly heads to the stairs and heads straight up. Traveling musician and part time hero.

He reaches the correct door and realized he doesn't have the key. No problem, the week before Claude accidentally locked himself out of the bar. When asked how he got in he revealed that he was a pretty skilled lock-picker. Something he picked up in his youth. So with a deft hand Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of bills held together with a pin. His tips. Removing the pin and using his teeth to pull and shaped it he set about his work. After a few minuets he was able to get through, he resolved to work on his lock picking. For now though he silently cheers and opens the door.

There in the center of the room is a young girl bound do a chair by rope. Her mouth is gagged and her eyes are covered with a length of cloth. He could see that she had been crying and when the door opened she began to struggle against her bindings.

"Shh.." He whispered. "I am going to get you out of here."

She seemed to calm down so Harry removed her gag and eye coverings, but not before closing the door and hooking security chain at the top. Her breath came out in ragged heaves and her deep blue eyes where full of tears. Still Harry can't help but think she is a very pretty young girl, with her silver blond hair.

"Who are you?" She asked after a moment as Harry worked his bone handles knife against the bindings.

"A friend." Harry said, no need to give out his name only Claude knew it and even then only his first name. He figured it would be easier to stay away from those who wanted to return him home if he wasn't recognized by name.

"Your not from around here." The girl stated as her left arm came free from the arm rest.

"Nope," Harry stated. " I guess you could say I'm a travler."

"Thank you for this." She stated. "I am sure my father will reward you for this service."

"No need, I'll be leaving France tonight."

"That may be for the best," The girl said darkly. "the men who took me are quite ruthless."

"Not the brightest though," Harry quips. "broadcasting their evil plans loud enough for any attentive bus boy to hear."

She giggles.

"Can I at least know the name of my savior?"

Harry stalls by finishing with the girls bindings. She stands and reaches for locket around her neck.

"Well?" She asks a bit impatiently.

"Well," Harry began. "the patrons here had a name for me that I have taken a liking to."

There was a banging sound as the door burst inward the chain straining against the force being put behind it.

"What are you playing at girl! Let me in!" Came the angry voice from the other side.

"You must come with me," The girl said quickly. "I can get us out of here, take my hand."

"So, you are a witch then?" Harry muses.

She nods relieved that she wasn't about to portkey a muggle boy out of the tavern.

"Then go on ahead, I have my own way to travel." Harry stated bringing out his pipes. "By the way, they call me The Bard, I think it has a nice ring to it."

With that he began to play and soon his feet were starting their disappearing act. The girl caught on quickly and clutched her locket. She then leaned forward and kissed Harry's cheek.

"Fleur Delacour." She stated.

Harry blushes stumbling slightly over a note as the banging at the door persists. The wind picks up even more and Harry sees Fleur's eyes lock on his forehead. Realization dawns on her face as she mutters,"Home", to the locket and disappears.

Harry sighs as the room fades from view replaced by a searing heat and a gargantuan pyramid surrounded by picture snapping tourists. Egypt?

He idly wondered if he would ever have control of where the wind carried him. With a smile he decided that he really didn't care.

It was another year following his trip to Egypt. Harry had since gotten a handle of his wind travel. Not that he could chose where he would end up, just that he was more confident that it would never drop him of a cliff by accident. It seemed to know he wanted to see new places and more often than not he wound up places he felt he needed to be. He gained a reputation and his name as "The Bard" grew on him. He proved himself a quick learner and a natural in most things music related. As he traveled he just learned more, and made more friends. It was like a dream.

He also found a few exclusively magic places by mistake. A few shopping districts in Japan full of stores selling cauldrons, spell books, and all manner of magical implements. A week spent redwood forest of North America with a colony of Centaurs, they taught him more of nature and were intrigued by his song. He met a traveling goblin named Thicktooth who, in exchange for assisting him in the search for an Aztec treasure, would teach him the intricacies of goblin culture as well as their language. He was later taught runes so that he could help identify markings on stones and trees.

It was two weeks and only a rudimentary understanding of gobbledegook, as well as rudimentary rune knowledge, later that the goblin treasure hunter found his quarry. Harry is sure that the concern he displayed at one so young entering a dangerous ruin was just so he could keep what would be Harry's cut of the treasure. However, he didn't really care it was quite the adventure trekking though the jungles of central Mexico. The small sack of gold the goblin handed to him when he hesitated didn't hurt either. Harry had seen the little guy wrestle a jaguar, anything he though was dangerous must be hellish. Maybe one day he would be braving forgotten ruins, but not this day.

The morning he and Thicktooth were to part ways Harry awoke with a weight on his face. It was light and had an odd feel to it like a dry rag was left draped over his eyes. He reached up groggily and pulled it off, it crinkled lightly and felt leathery in his hand. He reached for his glasses, holding the strange cloth in his off hand, and shoved them on. What he saw in his hand was a silvery blur, as a matter of fact his hand and arm were a fleshy colored blur. Blinking he took his glasses off dropping the silvery rag and going to clean his lenses. In bringing the lens to the hem of his shirt he halted in shock.

He could see. Clear as day he could see his round rimmed glasses. The grass beneath him, the hem of his shirt. He then saw the rag. Only it wasn't a rag, it was a long silvery length of a strange material. It looked to be slightly translucent and it was made up of small parts, like scales.

"Your welcome." Came a silky, distinctly female voice.

Harry jumped as his eyes searched for the source of the voice in the surrounding trees. His eyes lingered on the snoring form of Thicktooth, but otherwise could not find anyone.

"Down here." The voice said.

Harry's eyes trailed to the ground just beside him. Coiled just to the right of where his head had laid was a snake. Its skin was a pattern of red, black, and yellow. Harry struggled to remember what the safe pattern of colors were. When he sighed.

"Milk snake." He said relieved.

"Relieved are you?" The snake spoke shocking Harry. "Even without venom I can still bite!"

"Y-you can talk." Harry stammered.

"Most of us can." The snake replied. "Though it takes the aura of a Speaker to bring out the innate intelligence in most modern serpents."

Harry still looked confused.

"You were born with the experience to speak to serpents," She explained." I could taste that power in the air."

Here she flicked her forked tongue out tasting the air.

"It is an odd feeling, to suddenly come into a higher level of sentience." She continued. "I nearly left your presence as I am sure most did but..."

Here the snake began to uncoil itself, it quickly spiraled up Harry arm before bringing itself nose to nose with the boy.

"There was a strange feeling about your eyes," It said. " a taint, a wound. I was surprised when I seemed to lose sense of myself. Without any work on my part I began to shed my skin, which is strange as I had already shed just the day before."

Harry looked to the rag, no seeing it as a snake skin. He brought a hand to his face touching his cheek just below his eye.

"You fixed my eyesight?" He asked mostly to himself.

"Did I?" The snake asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Harry smiled starting to come to terms with the whole talking snake thing. He asked her for her name, to which the snake replied that she had no need for one before.

"Well," Harry said. " I think, I'll call you Vera."

"Vera," The snakes head bobbed from side to side. " I like it."

"So, Vera, would you like to come with me in my travels?"

"I don't intend to give up my new found intelligence just yet."

From then on Harry was sure to practice Vera's healing ability whenever possible. Vera was happy to oblige as apparently the shedding of skin was a pleasurable feeling. Vera was becoming slightly vain, as her skin was always fresh shiny and new. She spent most days coiled in a silk bag Harry kept on his belt. She was of a mostly nocturnal breed enjoying cool nights more than bright sunny days. She took to Snag rather well, though it took some time for the little guy to trust the snake. Her companionship was a welcomed addition to his travels.

His most recent trip found him in Alaska, where he promptly learned the meaning of cold. It was here that he also took time to try and connect with another aspect of nature. He often communed with the wind through his music, but was finding himself more and more curious about the magic inherent in the other aspects of nature. On Alaska's icy shores he learned that natures magic was a complex and wonderful thing. Vera spent every moment wrapped tightly around his waist where it was nice an warm.

Reaching out with his magic he found that the sea itself was a deep and complex thing. It spoke in low humming tones and he could not comprehend their deep meaning. The waves, he found, he could speak to if only just. They spoke to him in the same feather light pitch of the wind, yet held the rumbling undertones of the sea. He found that waves where born of the wind and sea, their child, would be the easiest way to explain it. It was playful and flighty as the wind, but there was an understanding that despite its want to be unruly it was meant to beat upon the shore and did so happily.

After another week he was able to speak to the waves, learning the meaning behind the low rumbles. The intent, the powerful purpose it held despite its playful visage. Then he with the gap bridged from father to son, he was unsure why he characterized the wind as the father, it just felt right. He set about reaching from child to mother. It was hard, but with his understanding of the purpose withing the waves he came to acknowledge the deeper purpose of the sea. She was a stubborn and forceful thing with an all encompassing purpose.

She would not bend to his whim she would not answer his call, she left the affairs of the above to her son the wave. She would do her duty for should she answer his call, her power could turn the world on its head. Harry was astounded as he probed the depths of the sea, such a complex thing it was that he knew he could sit there for his entire life and many of her bellowing tones would still be beyond his comprehension.

Feeling that it was better to leave it at that, he would never ask anything of the sea but he would continue to commune with her, as he found her depth astounding. With a smile he stood from his spot on the ice, having packed up all his belongings the day before in preparation to leave, and began to play his traveling tune. In the normal gust of wind he faded away much much quicker, giving himself to the wind, he was gone in half a second.

In a park in London the bright summer sun beat down offering the perfect reading light for a young witch who sat on a park bench. She was enjoying her book when the wind picked up. A few pages were turned by the gust and she huffed looking up from her book as if to glare at the wind. There she saw as a young man appeared from the top down. He was decked out in snow wear including boots heavy pants a large coat with a fluffy edge around the hood, and large ski goggles. He looked no older than herself, either that or he was a particularly small man.

She stared open mouthed before glancing around hurriedly and setting her book down dashed over taking the persons arm and dragged him back to the bench.

"What are you doing?" She hissed.

Harry was suitably surprised at his situation. He had just got here and was already being accosted.

"I don't know, that depends on where I am." He replied cooly.

The girl looked flabbergasted she fixed him with a look; "Your in London as if you didn't know! What were you doing performing magic in broad daylight in a muggle park?"

"Oh don't give me that." He replied with a laugh. " What's the worse that can happen, one person see's me rushes over in alarm. I play the part of a street magician do a card trick and he's on his way."

The girl looked skeptical.

"What?" He questioned. "Our very own culture has provided magic users with an out. If they ask how its done, well, a magician never reveals his secrets!"

She relented at this it made plenty of sense, now the question was how did he do that. She knew from her reading that apparation was not allowed until you reached a certain age. Even then it came with a distinctive popping sound, not a fading in form as this boy had done.

"How did you do that before?" She asked.

"Very inquisitive aren't you?" Harry asked. "Nor even so much as a 'hello' or 'how are you'."

She had the decency to blush lightly at this and extended her hand which he took in a shake.

"Hermione Granger," She said brightly. " I just finished my first year at Hogwarts-"

At this she frowned, Harry found this strange as she seemed so excited at first.

"Something the matter?" Harry probed removing his goggles.

She looked pensive for a moment her eyes searching Harry's newly exposed face. She caught his eyes and after a moment began to speak.

"Something happened this year," She began. "I nearly died, if not for the professors getting there in time."

She smiled slightly.

"I am a muggle-born and even though its scary I love magic I really do, I think that even if I don't go back I will always be a witch. I am just afraid, that I won't be strong enough, or others wont be quick enough next time something goes wrong. I don't have any friends there, everyone thinks me annoying."

She kicked the dirt; "A know it all."

Harry nodded, it was a hard decision to make. On one hand there was this fantastical new world that, just like his music, she felt was a part of her despite the dangers. She was also alone, which he knew from experience was a horrible thing. He nodded to himself, maybe a small push. He reached into his jacket pocket and what looked to be a small folded marble bag. He stood, drawing her eye and began to unfold it. Once, twice, again and again. Eventually he was hold a large silk sack that was deeper than he was tall. He set the draw string at the top on the ground and stepped in. Reaching down he lifted the draw string up to his chest.

"Could you give me a hand and pull the draw string please?" He asked Hermione.

She nodded perplexed by the boys strange actions. When Harry ducked his head into the sack she pulled the draw string looking around the park for a moment wondering if anyone was watching the odd goings on.

The bag began to wriggle and writhe and half a minute later the draw string came loose. It fell away and standing where once was a boy decked out in winter wear was the same boy looking radically different. He wore simple brown pants and what looked like hiking boots. A white button up shirt and over that well worn brown leather jacket. She could see peeking out from either edge of the open jacket to straps. A bone handle could be seen protruding from the right side of his back, and a small silk back was tied to his belt loop.

"Suspenders?" She question.

"Your pants only need to fall down once for you to learn the need for proper precaution." He stated.

"Well yes," Hermione replied. " but wouldn't a belt be a simpler solution?"

"But everyone wears belts don't they?" Harry smiled.

At this moment there was a chattering noise coming from the bag on the ground.

"Oh no, I forgot about Snag." Harry sighed.

He reached down lifting the bag slightly before a small blur sped up his arm. He gave the bag a light kick and one of the edges flopped over it started a chain reaction as the bag folded in on itself. Hermione, however, had her eyes set on the little squirrel like creature.

"What is that?" She asked.

Harry smiled.

"This is my little friend Snag. One of the fable species the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Hermione frowned.

"That can't be," She stated. "I read about them in that ridiculous Quibbler magazine, every other book I have read deems that they don't exist."

Harry laughed petting Snags head as the little creature chattered contentedly.

"Hear that Snag, you don't exist."

"It's not funny, how is this possible?" She asked.

"You put a lot of stock in books and laws, don't you Hermione?" Harry questioned suddenly.

She looked offended, but nodded nonetheless.

"Others may find this attitude a bit abrasive, I can tell you are proud of your knowledge, and you rightly should be you seem to be a very bright witch. I would be happy to call you my friend."

She brightened slightly at this.

"However," He added." not everyone has my patience as I have learned that burning bridges is hardly ever the correct course of action. You need to put away your books with their laws and their rules governing magic. Magic!"

Harry laughed.

"As if something so boundless and wondrous could ever be completely bound by any rules or guidelines we could imagine."

Harry sat beside her on the bench taking Snag in his hands and holding him out to her.

"This is Snag, a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, " Harry stated. "up until this moment you knew he didn't exist. Up until a year ago, you knew magic wasn't real."

Harry smiled as Snag went nose to nose with the girl causing her to giggle.

"Imagine, what you'll know tomorrow."

Hermione laughed sending Harry a smile that lit up her face making her brown eyes shine.

"I get it," She relented." I need to stop living out of the pages of a book and learn to understand the world by experience as well."

"Exactly," Harry smiled. "it would also help to have an open mind and be a little more civil when confronted with something that defies your own logic."

She nodded.

"Thanks." She said as she pet Snag and nudged his little horns." Did you mean it?"

"What?" Harry questioned.

Hermione looked away absentmindedly running her hands over Snags back as she blushed lightly.

"That you'd be my friend?" She asked timidly.

Harry smiled,"Well of course, I wouldn't mind being your friend at all."

Hermione smiled brightly.

"In that case, whats your name?"

"Well, the world at large knows me as The Bard." Harry laughed. "Catchy huh? I like it too, but my friends call me Harry, Harry Potter."

Harry assumed that as a muggle-born she would be less inclined to know him as it seems others would. He was sadly mistaken.

She looked taken back before searching his face, he was glad his hair hid the scar. It hung just below his ears now and splayed about his head in a wild fashion.

"The Harry Potter?" She asked.

"The?" Harry questioned back. "Now why would I be anyone other than myself?"

"Your supposed to have gone missing years ago." Hermione began. "No one knows where you went ,but everyone has theories."

Harry perked up.

"Really, like what?"

"One is that you are off training to become the next Dumbledore." She stated.

"Once again, why would I want to be anyone other than myself?" He questioned.

"One is that you were stolen away by dark wizards unknown and are being trained as the next dark lord."

"First step of evil dark lord evil dark plan, befriend unassuming muggle-born book worm."

Hermione laughed, finding no insult in the book worm comment, for the first time in her life the title seemed affectionate.

"Another is that you are dead."

"I am, I just happen to be a very solid ghost."

"Your quite sassy aren't you." Hermione questioned.

"I prefer witty, sassy sounds feminine and I am dreadfully insecure about my masculinity." Harry said faking a trembling voice.

"I think sassy is appropriate then." She stated.

"I'm hurt."

"Wounded even?"

"Devastated."

They broke into a fit of laughter that had Snag dashing to the grass as their shoulders shook to hard to form a proper perch. After they cooled down, Harry stood, picking up his now compact bag.

"It was good meeting you Hermione, rest assured we will meet again some day." He stated.

"Your leaving?" She questioned sadly.

"I can't stay, there is still more of the world to see before I return to the land of my birth. I think the wind brought be here to make a friend of you, and teach you that magic is not about rules and laws."

"The wind?"

"There is magic in every little bit of nature," Harry told her. " it's hard to explain but I can speak to that magic and it calls out to me. The wind will carry me away, I don't always know where I'll end up, but it seems to take me where I need to go."

"How do you do it," She questioned. " I didn't see a wand."

"With this." He said taking his pipes from his belt.

Hermione frowned a confused look dawning on her face. A retort of "That's impossible." wanted to jump from her lips but she stopped herself. She remembered what he had said. She had always read so many books because she wanted to understand the world around her. It was now that she realized that by putting all her faith in the written word she was denying herself all which could be discovered in favor of what was already known. That was counter productive to her own goal, and had no place in the person she wanted to be. With nod she looked the simple reed pipes over, not seeing anything overtly magical about them.

"How?" She questioned.

Harry smiled, happy that she was now seeking knowledge instead of denying the unknown.

"I'll show you Hermione," He said. " but then we'll have to part ways here."

Hermione nodded in anticipation.

"I'll see you again right?" She asked.

"For sure, I gave my word to another friend that I would one day come to Hogwarts." He replied.

"Well then, I want your word too."

"Alright," He relented. "I promise, you'll see me again."

Hermione nodded trusting her first ever friend to keep his word. And she watched mesmerized as he began to play. A beautiful tune soft and sweet floated on the breeze, kicking up a gale of wind centered around him. Leaves swirled around his form, and starting from the feet he began to disappear. He took the reeds from his lips and to her astonishment the music continued to play on phantom pipes.

"I'll see you soon Hermione!" He waved.

She smiled as he disappeared after witnessing her first sight of true magic. Everything at Hogwarts required a wand, their were laws to transfiguration and method to potions. Yet here of all places, in a park a block from her home, she saw magic. Pure true magic, and she laughed and wore a smile throughout the day. Her decision made, if Harry would once day be there then she would be waiting.

After leaving that London park Harry took to his travels in earnest. He knew that he would one day have to go back, and now he was looking forward to it. He had to friends waiting for him when he returned and he wanted to have stories to tell. He also began to delve further into his magic. Using his new found knowledge of the way certain forces gave birth to other, and how their song was similar he set out to feel out the different aspects of the elements.

He started in China where he spent months just walking through the country, observing the culture and once again setting his mind to assimilating the language. He found it to be a beautiful country full of kind and humble people. He was able to find lodging with a local farm family. They taught him how to farm rice and he sat beside the rivers that fed their paddies in his off time.

He found that the rivers shared the low timber of their mother the sea. They had a purpose, but that purpose lent them to accept his direction. The rivers knew they were meant to aid life. To feed crops and animals, to quench thirst the river longed to be needed. He was positive that the water of the rivers would respond should he call for their aid.

It was the same everywhere he went, in Brazil he learned the language of the earth after months of toil feeling out the stubborn elements tune. A sharp powerful percussion of sound the shook his magic with its strength. It also had a strong purpose like the sea, and it would not yield it's complete strength to Harry. It kept the brunt of its furry the power of the quake to itself, lest the power corrupt.

From earth he met the flora, all the plants and trees on the planet. The child of the earth, the sun, and the water. It was a timid song that the flora sung as he communed with it in unmapped forest of Russia. It seemed that like the earth the flora was one unified being that sang the same song. One of timid friendship, it had a purpose and that was to grow and thrive. It knew that it could not do this alone, and so when a voice spoke out to it it was happy to respond. It longed to be needed to garner respect for its endeavors, and to be respected and cared for. Harry knew that it would never fail to answer his call so long as he respected it.

It was in planes of Africa where he met fire. Fire was the strangest one, it was born of wind and something else. Something strange, it sang of unbridled freedom, and at times rage. Below that though, a low sound that pulsed through the fury of the flame. It was sad, yet happy. Horrid, yet lovely. Harry had heard nothing like it. He knew though that fire would never allow itself to be controlled it wanted only to burn and burn till it burned itself out. He could only quell or power the blaze with the backing of its father the wind.

In his fourteenth year Harry was whisked away on the wind as was his custom by now. He was deposited on an old street corner. Before him was a small cottage the roof blown out and singed, it looked old and decrepit. He wondered why it still stood, until his eyes found a sign posted on the gate.

His hand shot out at once tracing the iron gate his eyes shooting to the ruined home before him. His ruined home, his parents ruined home. His shoulders sagged as his knees hit the ground, and he cried. He cried for his mother who loved him enough to die for him, and for his father who loved him just as much. He cried for every year he lived without them, and every day, and every minute, and every second. Snag sat upon his shoulder gently wiping at the tears with his tail, offering comfort to his friend.

After a time the tears subsided, but the hurt was still there. He stared at the building for another hour. Imagining a life within its walls. With his mother and father there to care for him. It was late in the evening when he set down the road to find a place to stay. It was on this trek that he saw the cemetery. Snag gave a sympathetic whine as Harry walked the rows of marble stone. Until at last he found them.

Standing side by side, the grave markers that are read the names of his parents.

"Lily Potter" Harry read to himself in a choked voice. "James Potter. The last enemy to be destroyed is death."

Harry reached a quivering hand to his pipes. After catching his breath he began to play.

"This is for you mum." He whispered.

He played he played long and soft, a tune he hoped she'd love to hear. The same tune his aunt played outside his cupboard those lonely nights. It filled him with a great joy and despite himself he smiled between breaths. When he was done he played another tune to end it, a soft happy melody interrupted with sharp blasts of sound.

From the earth between the two graves grew a single lily its petals shining in the moonlight.

It was here that he felt it. In reaching out to the earth to bring the seed, and the flora to help the flower grow, he felt something familiar in the very grown surrounding the cemetery. He racked his brain for the answer pouring over his interactions with nature to find the tune he was looking for, when it hit him.

Fire. Fire was a child of wind...

"Wind," Harry said as he gazed at the cemetery grounds." and death."

Yes, that was it. Fire killed and then consumed the dead to give it life. At the same time, in its wake it leaves not only death, but the start of new life. He put his pipes to his lips and began to play what he remembered of the tune of death. It was a strange tune he surmised, but then again death was strange. It was a part of life. It was needed. So the tune came. Happy yet sad, horrid yet lovely. Death was an oddity and he could barely feel out its melody.

He sat there for hours trying to connect to the sound of death prevalent in the cemetery. And he came back every day to try again and again. Two months lingering in the cemetery he played at his parents grave. It was odd to him that no one ever came to pay their respects. His parents where heroes, but it seemed the people only saw him with his scar and his tragedy. His apparent heroism.

One night beneath the new moon he made a breakthrough, he felt a pulse within the air as he found a new note.

Death sang.

It sang out shrill into the night air. Its song so sad, yet it held great beauty in its cadence. It floated on the air filling him with a cold sensation. He called out to death, matching its tune with his own. He asked to see his parents. Death remained silent. Harry became desperate. He pleaded with the voice of the wind, he begged with the sharp drum of the earth, he cried out like the cresting wave!

Death sang.

The sound was deafening it stirred the wind into a frenzy, the earth shook beneath him. Then all at once it was still. In the melee Harry had hugged his pipes to his chest, and fallen to his knees.

"Harry."

Harry shook his head, clutching his pipes knuckles white.

"Harry..."

He fell forward his head meeting the soft dirt.

"Harry, please son..."

He shot up, his eyes brimming with tears. There before him was the most beautiful sight he had seen in his life. More radiant the the norther lights, more powerful the the falls of Africa! His mother and father, side by side kneeling before their own graves. They glowed a strange shade of silver, he could see through them but only just. He cried again, tears of happiness.

"Harry," His mother spoke. "look at you, all grown up."

He smiled wiping his eyes.

"Harry," His father said pride evident in his voice." your everything I'd hoped you'd be."

Harry lunged forward reaching out only to fall through his parents form. He felt cold, and for a moment a bitter sob broke from his throat. That end though as he looked up his parents had moved back, their eyes met his. He saw such love and compassion there. They reached out and he let their transparent arms circle him. He felt warm, truly happy for the first time in his life.

"We are so proud of you Harry," His mother said." your doing things that we had only ever dreamed of."

She pulled back.

"I just can't believe what you have accomplished." She gushed. "An entirely new magic all your own, Harry I couldn't be prouder."

"We'd love you regardless Harry," His father added. " we loved you the moment we knew you were on your way."

"And every day since we have been watching over you!" His mother said." Your our whole world Harry, our life even beyond death!"

Harry nodded, unable to speak.

"Now don't take this the wrong way son," His father began. "but what you have done tonight is wrong."

Harry nodded. It felt wrong, no matter how happy he was to see them, that unnatural cold filled him with the fury of death. It was so frightening, it was beyond any fear he had felt before.

"The dead are meant to remain that way," Lily spoke softly." we can't stay."

"And you must promise not to repeat this feat except for in the most dire of circumstances." James added. "Can I have your word on that?"

"Yes," Harry spoke. "I promise Dad I just-I-"

"We know sweetie." Lily cooed, running a ghostly hand through his hair." we are happy to have had this chance too. We will see each other again one day. On that day you will hear the song of life, and be content as we are."

"Song, of life?" Harry questioned.

"Yes," James smiled." One day you'll play it for us, won't you son? We will watch over your children, and their children and you'll play for us the song of life."

"I can't wait." Harry spoke wistfully.

"You'll do it for me though won't you Harry? Wait?" Lily asked. "See the world like you want to, I want to see it all through you, live the life I wanted for you. Be happy!"

"I promise Mum." Harry choked. " I love you both."

"And we love you." The both replied.

Death sang. Soft and slow. Happy yet sad, horrid yet lovely.

And Harry Potter didn't cry, not anymore.

**~End~**

**Be sure to review!**

**~Bard of the Glade~**


	4. Keeping a Promise

**Finally.**

**Disclaimer: I Dis-claim Harry Potter, not that I claimed it to begin with but there you go.**

**Chapter Four: Keeping a Promise**

Harry laughed as the wind whipped through his hair. He was free he was weightless, he had finally did it. After four years of speaking with the wind of tireless practicing finally, he could take flight! One day he was playing when Snag, whom he hadn't given much attention lately, fulfilled his namesake and snatched up his pipes with his tail. Harry reached for them as Snag scurried off and it was only after he lost sight of the little devil did he realize that the music was still sounding.

He could feel it. His magic, his very own magic was singing with the wind! In that moment it was like the gale was a part of him. Not just an old friend, but a brother something that was always and would always be there. He tentatively threw a hand forward and to his amazement the tune changed and the wind sang in concert with him. It trusted him, it felt the connection too and it took his lead.

A gust burst forth sweeping under his arm and surging outward buffeting the leaves upon the bushes that surrounded the forest clearing he was in. He smiled, all his work had born fruit. From the start he knew he had a special connection to the wind and now the wind had finally deemed him worth to not just ask, but lead it. He realized quickly that he had limits and could not call forth the deeper more furious powers of the wind without his pipes. At this point the notes where just to complex for his magic to produce on its own.

It was that same day that he attempted to fulfill the dream he had the day he began his globe trotting travels. He started small just using the wind to rise a foot above ground. He could hear the music a soft melodious tune light and happy. Feeling more confident he concentrated allowing it to lift him higher and higher. The music swelled into a triumphant song, powerful and full of joy.

The wind surged from his hands and feet as he ascended. He had broke above the tree's long ago, still caught up in the joy of flight when he stopped accelerating. He looked out seeing the checkerboard of color that was the Irish countryside. He smiled and began to concentrate once more the music had dimmed back to the soft tune as he floated in the air. Giving into instinct he leaned forward his feeling the wind leave his hands and begin to push down from every part of him facing the ground.

"Well," He told Snag who had taken up a spot in his from pocket. "hold on tight and here goes nothing."

He willed his magic to sing and another gust surged from his hands and feet. It was jerky at first, but then he found his stride and he rushed through the air shouting and whooping all the way. He learned to control his movement by changing the direction his arms were facing. In the end he found he loved being in the sky and as his magic sang alongside the wind he felt more at home than ever in his life. He eventually came down and began to pack up his camp. Then he began to play hoping that the wind carried him someplace he could have a good fly.

In another part of the world dread was wracking the old bones of one Albus Dumbledore. When he learned that the Tri-Wizard would take place this year he was somewhat apprehensive. It was a dangerous tournament after all. However it seemed Fudge wanted to take peoples mind off of his failure to capture the notorious murder Sirius Black. He organized the Quidditch World Cup, and then the Tri-Wizard to distract from his apparent ineptitude.

Dumbledore had no choice but to host the tournament at Hogwarts, at this point he could only hope to make the tasks as safe as possible for all involved. Things were going well until the night that the Champions were chosen. Cedric Diggory was a natural choice for Hogwarts Champion, a very bright Wizard. Fleur Delacour was chosen for Beauxbatons, the quater-veela would be an interesting contestant to watch. Victor Krum was then made the Champion for Durmstrang, a famous professional Quidditch player and from what he understood a capable duelist.

Then it happened, one last name shot from the flames and floated lazily to his hand. He read the name in a whisper, astounded by what he was reading. How could this have happened? He recognized the writing it was from the note that Minerva had brought back from her search. She had been given it by a kindly tavern owner named Mac. It was the only bit of solid information they had on Harry Potter. She had held on to it, as a reminder and he was sure she still spent a few weeks of her summer searching for more leads. It seems someone broke into her office and used the boys signature to enter him into the tournament.

The first task had begun just and hour before and already it was time. The Champions were to face a live dragon and retrieve a golden egg that was in its care. Each would face a different dragon chosen by lottery. Cedric had bested his Swedish Short-Snout though some clever transfiguration though he sustains some injury. Fleur had charmed her Common Welsh Green to sleep. While Victor blinded his Chinese Fireball snatching his egg from beneath its stumbling legs. Dumbledore had drawn in Harry's stead, pulling the Hungarian Horntail, the most vicious of the lot.

The crowd watched as they brought the Horntail out into the arena. Dumbledore was sure this was all just a formality, giving the boy time to show up, to save himself. He was fully prepared to scour the muggle papers for news of a young boy struck with a strange illness. He was sure that on this day, Harry Potter would be subject the pain that came with breaching a magical contract. He watched with growing dread as the cannon fired and the task was set to begin.

There was silence as the dragon snorted a gout of flame down in the arena. After a time he stood holding his wand to his throat.

"As the last champion has not appeared to face the task," He began. "I am sad to say he will be dis-"

Even over the sound of his Sonorus spell you could hear it, a sound that cause a hush to fall over the entire crowd. Out of all those in attendance it was a familiar tune to only three. Dumbledore listened astounded as the music grew in volume and a heavy wind kicked up blowing outward from the center of the arena. The Horntail growled hunching up over its eggs.

The wind picked up and a visible twister of dust formed in the center of the arena. Then a person appeared as the wind died and the dust storm fell to reveal him. He was clad in a worn brown leather jacket, and simple brown pants. Hiking boots sat at his feet and peeking out from under his jacket was the bone handle of his knife. Next to that was a silk bag that hung on his waist. In his hands were a set of reed pipes that he had just taken from his lips. When he appeared his eyes were closed as he was enjoying the music and the feeling of being carried by the wind.

When he finally took in his surroundings he entered a state of controlled panic.

"A dragon," He muttered. "a real live fire breathing dragon! Where in the hell am I?"

The crowd was astounded and rightly so, all forms of magical transport were negated on Hogwarts grounds. Yet, this person just shows up in the middle of the arena as if it were nothing. Harry had by this point backed himself against the wall farthest from the beast his hand gripping the handle of his knife.

"Harry!" Came a loud aged voice that sounded as if coming everywhere at once.

"Is that you god? There's a dragon here." Harry joked shakily to himself.

For the first time he took his eyes off the dragon to take in the rest of his surroundings. He was on the ground floor of what looked to be an arena of some kind. The walls were two stories high and there were quite a few people in the stands, all of them were quiet which was odd. His eyes caught an elderly wizard with a wand to held to his neck.

"Harry," It was the old man speaking. "you must retrieve the golden egg from the dragons nest!"

"Egg?" Harry questioned as the Horntail fixed him in its gaze sizing him up. "You want me to take an egg from a dragon mother? Are you mad!"

Dumbledore chuckled despite the tense situation.

"I am afraid that is the only option," He began." rest assured that I will inform you of all the details later but should you refuse to attempt the task you will be breaching a magical contract."

Harry was livid, he stood from the wall pointing finger at Dumbledore.

"I haven't signed any contract!" Harry yelled.

"It was done for you by persons unknown," Dumbledore informed him. "using a signature that you left to a man named Mac in Ottery St. Catchpole. Are you familiar with the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

Harry cursed under his breath, he had read of the Tri-Wizard Tournament when he visited Egypt. The Library of Alexandria was the most complete in the world, witch books both mundane and magical lining its aged walls. The Goblet of Fire constituted a binding magical contract. All it required was a signature written by the contestants own hand. He had never thought that anyone would use his signature in such a way, especially since the tournament was no longer held.

"Alright," Harry spoke to himself." I just have to get the egg."

Harry gulped taking in the intimidating visage of the Hungarian Horntail. It's black scales seemed to suck the very light from the sun in deep contrast with the gleaming bronze horns that formed a crown on its head. It's yellow eyes with their vertical pupils were fixed on Harry.

"Get an egg from a nesting dragon..."

The beast roared, a yowling, screeching scream, as it fired a pillar of flame into the sky.

"This is suicide!"

Harry dashed behind a stone that was jutting from the arena floor. With his back pressed tightly to the stone he began to formulate a plan. A dragon was bad enough, but a nesting mother defending her eggs? This was worse than bad, in his opinion this tournament should have stayed in the history books were bloodsport belonged.

Harry took a deep calming breath before stepping out from behind the boulder. The Horntail saw him and with a roar released a breath of flame at him. The crowed gasped, would this be the day The-Boy-Who-Lived died? They watched in slow motion as the flame burst forth to engulf him, but as the flame left the beast maw Harry was already in motion.

Touching the wind, his magic sang and he spread his arms wide in front of him. The fire so bright and deadly seemed to just die out as it came within five feet of him. The heat was blistering but it was better than being burned alive.

"Harry Potter!" Came a new much younger voice, though just as loud as the aged mans. "I have never seen anything like it, after making a grand last minuet appearance he quells dragon fire without the use of a wand simply astounding!"

"Oh yes," Harry laughs. "at least if the dragon eats me it will be well documented!"

He brought his pipes to his lips and began to play in the deep pounding rhythm of the earth.

"Harry," Spoke the voice. "this is hardly the time for music-my word!"

The ground beneath the dragon began to soften and the large creatures forelegs began to sink. It struggled for a moment before pushing off with its powerful back legs and releasing itself. However this action did displace it leaving its eggs out in the open. Harry once more put down his pipes and willed his magic to sing with the wind. A sweet feather light tune began to permeate the air as Harry took towards the dragon at a run drawing cries of surprise and horror from the crowd.

"I have never seen anything like it-" The commentator spoke but Harry ignored him.

Harry locked eyes with the beast, green meeting yellow. The beast reared back, a blaze building in its throat. Harry's eyes narrowed as he closed on the dragon and it lunged forward fire burning from its maw. Harry leapt high and above the beast, flames licking his heels, he landed softly beside the small clutch of eggs. The wind catching him as he quickly took the golden one and made for what looked to be an opening in the side of the arena.

He left the people in the stands cheering wildly and came upon what looked like a medical field tent. He lazily tossed his egg to the side, not even watching as it rolled away. There was one boy laying on a cot his face badly burned as a med-witch fussed over him. There was stern looking guy sitting in a chair off to the side, he was making a show of being uninterested in Harry.

"I knew you would come!" Came a exited female voice.

Harry found himself hugged tightly with a pair of warm lips pressed to his cheek.

"I did not get the chance to thank you for what you did." The young woman said.

She pulled away and Harry was able to get a look at her. She was quite gorgeous with silvery blond hair and her dark blue eyes. Her figure was nothing to sneeze at either. However, it was the eyes and the accent that gave it away.

"Fleur?" He questioned.

"You remembered," She smiled. "I knew you would turn up, I was positive after that night that you were Harry Potter!"

"Well you were right I suppose." Harry laughed.

"Yes indeed," Came a familiar aged voice." I must say I was beginning to worry that you would not show."

"Well, it wasn't by choice mister-" Harry began.

A old man had entered the room where robes of an outlandish sky blue. He had a long white beard, and hair to match.

"Dumbledore, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." The man replied.

"I've heard of you," Harry stated." your name is entirely to long not to mention your many titles. I'm gonna call you Al, you don't mind do you?"

"Not at all." The old man laughed eyes shining with amusement.

"Okay then Al," Harry began again." I had no idea where I was going to end up, never do. I just go where the wind takes me, it's never steered me wrong."

At this he brought a hand to his chin looking pensive.

"Though, the center of the arena isn't the first place I would have chosen."

"It is quite fortunate that you did though," Dumbledore told him choosing to disregard his strange appearance, it could be dealt with later. "had you appeared anywhere else you would have been to late and deemed disqualified. I don't think I need to tell you how bad that could have been."

Harry nodded, reaffirming his trust in the wind.

"Once again, it's never steered me wrong." Harry frowned. "I am going to have to be a part of this tournament aren't I?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"I tried time and again to get you out of it Harry, you could not have been informed and it was cruel to expect you to appear on your own."

"But there are those that think you knew where I was, aren't there?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I am not sure who entered you into the tournament it could have been any number of people for any number of reasons."

Harry sighed.

"I guess it's for the best, I had been meaning to come here one of these days. Granted I wasn't expecting to come this soon, a promise is a promise."

"We can discuss things further in my office if you would like." Dumbledore offered.

"That'd be fine with me Al." Harry nodded. "I'll catch up with you later Fleur!"

Fleur nodded with a small smile as Harry followed Al to exit of the tent. It was when the tent flap was tossed open that all flashbulb spamming hell broke loose. There was a cacophony of voices, flashes of light and all manner of questions came it quick succession.

"Where have you been all these years Mister Potter?"

"Is it true you have been training under Albus Dumbledore?"

"What can you tell us about the various witches that have come forward claiming to be carrying your child?"

Harry nearly fell over laughing at a few of the questions asked as they made their way into the castle. Maybe he would give an interview later, who knows it could be fun. After wading through a sea of admirers and press they had finally reached the castle. It was just as impressive as the books had said. Its towers standing tall against the sky, its ramparts quite well maintained for such an old castle. Harry stepped through the large wooden doors into the entry hall and was struck silent.

The building was literally humming with magic. It was a powerful echoing hum the shook his very core with its powerful tune. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before. As the headmaster watched in confusion Harry rushed to the nearest stone wall pressing into it. One ear heavily to the tone and palms flat beside his head. What a wonderful sound. The very spirit of learning gave sentience over years of devotion to the ideals that this very castle was built upon. What wonderful magic.

"Al, you have a wonderful school she sings so beautifully." Harry muttered, looking over his shoulder at the headmaster.

"Sings?" Albus questioned. "I don't believe I had ever heard it said the school sings, the hat sings of course, but the school?"

Harry nodded, it wasn't something normal magical could feel on their own. He would explain to the man in detail later but for now it was best to show him. Harry beckoned him over with a single hand keeping an ear to the wall. When he approached Harry motioned for him to copy his own position.

"You have to open yourselves up completely," Harry said. " its hard as you long ago closed yourself off from the world ambient magic."

Albus nodded trusting that there was a point to what Harry was having him do. It was odd, yes, but as the saying goes: nothing ventured, nothing gained. He lowered his occlumency shields and focused on the wall that had the young man so interested. He hardly noticed as Harry hand was laid upon his own, he didn't feel the small surge as Harry's magic flared. However he couldn't help but notice what followed. He couldn't understand how he could not have heard it before. It felt as if it had always been there a part of him. From his adolescence learning within these very halls, to his years of teaching, and then taking his seat as Headmaster.

It was always there just below the stone walls, beating like a great heart, shining like beacon, and warming his heart. He recalled the tune as well, Fawkes his old friend and companion had sang this tune many times. Then just as suddenly as it began it was over.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Yes it is," Albus replied. "and you could hear this Harry?"

"From the moment I entered the doors." Harry responded.

"That is a wonderful gift you have Harry."

"It's no gift Al," Harry told him." I had to practice long and hard to reach this point. After years of learning, I have become an expert listener. Most everything in the world has a song to sing Al."

Albus nodded but instead of questioning further motioned toward the staircases. They would have plenty of time to talk in his office. Harry laughed as the stairs moved about overhead it was one thing reading about them, and another to see a building that actively sought to get its residents lost. Harry didn't blame it. With no one listening to it, it needed some way to garner attention. They reached the third floor, and with a wave of a hand a gargoyle statue revealed a spiral staircase which Albus lead him up.

The room was quite striking, it had shelves upon which many books, scrolls, and loose parchment rested. On other shelves where all manner of odd device some made of glass others bronze, most all of them clicking or twirling in some way. A large globe stood off to one side of the room, and the rest was taken up by a large wooden desk which itself was laden with rolls of parchment, clicking doodads, and small bowls of candies.

What drew Harry's attention however was the bird perched on the stand in the corner of the room. Its brilliant plumage seemed to imitate a roaring flame, it's long golden tail feathers glowed slightly. When they entered it let out a whistling tune and for the second time Harry was struck by a powerful tune. It wasn't the tune itself, but in who's voice it was sung. Fire, it was the song of fire. The marriage of wind and death. A Pheonix was the living embodiment of fire, death then rebirth.

"What an odd creature you are." Harry smiled as he pet the trilling bird. "my past experience says that you should be a being of hunger you should seek to devour and burn. Yet you're seen as a loyal and kind creature, your tears heal and your song warms the heart."

Harry locked eyes with the Pheonix green staring into black.

"What do you know that we don't?" He questioned.

Fawkes trilled once more high and with a bit of a warble. It was laughing, and Harry felt distinctly like a child told he was to young to know such a thing.

"Fawkes has been my faithful companion for many years," Albus said, having taken his seat while Harry examined the bird. "his songs are a joy to hear."

Harry smiled and took the seat opposite the headmasters desk.

"Yes, I haven't ever heard a Pheonix song before it was very nice."

Albus nodded before steeping his hands and with a conspiratory lean began to speak.

"So tell me Harry, how is it that you can perform magic without a wand?"

"It's quite a long story actually." Harry stated.

"I am rather fond of long story's." Albus responded.

"Me too." Harry said.

So he told him. He told him about how he was sent off by his Aunt, about how he hid from those that sought him out for fear of being returned. He told him of how he discovered magic of which Albus was astonished and quite interested. He told him the gist of his travels as to go into detail would take the story over the boarder of long and into the realms of far too long. In the end Albus was made to understand that he was well traveled with a wide range of skills. He had thrived, he was his own person. Not a boy that needed protecting, but a man with knowledge and skill.

"No onto my next question," Albus began." would you be willing to become a student here at Hogwarts?"

Harry frowned at Albus' hopeful expression.

"I can't Al," Harry began. "not only would I hate to be tied down as such, but I can't use a wand."

"Can't?" Albus asked.

"Yes, can't." Harry clarified. "I learned of this from a core specialist in America. You are familiar with the cause of accidental magic correct?"

"Yes," Albus said. " when young witches and wizards have not yet reached magical maturity their cores are unstable, and prone to lash out when in states of high emotion."

"Exactly," Harry said. "now it is at around age eleven to ten that magical maturity sets in and the core begins to stabilize. It is also at around this time that they would get their first wand. The magical core still not yet solid, but not so open as before latches onto the connection that wand provides. Wands were made to do this, and so the connection is easy and the wand acts as a magical focus from then on."

Harry pulled out his pipes.

"When I was young and my core still unstable I began to feel out my magic." Harry stated. " When I went through my magical maturity my magic was already accustomed to reaching out to many different magics not just that of a compatible wand. My magic never stabilized, it is still wild and formless so that I can bend and shape it with my music. I doubt there is a wand in existence that is compatible to me."

"I see," Albus said. "magic by use of wand something you can never do, and it is all that is taught here. Beyond herbology, potions, and electives you would have nothing to do."

"Even then," Harry began. " I am classified as a Journeyman in the disciplines of rune carving, and potions."

"Quite the feat for one so young." Albus commented.

"I want to be well rounded you see," Harry said. " jack of all trades as it were."

"Admirable." Albus smiled. " Well then, I wish you luck in the tournament Harry, I will have a room ready for you tonight one of the elves will inform you of its location when it is ready. Until then feel free to explore the grounds."

"I think I may do just that." Harry said as he left the office.

Albus sat at his desk deep in thought. Harry was quite the young man. He seemed to be living Albus' dream of seeing the world. Somewhere deep inside Albus envied him, but that envy was tempered by sadness at the losses he had to endure. And now, the subject of a prophecy. Albus was no fool, most prophecy's did not come to fruition without foreknowledge on the part of the subjects.

It was Voldemort's own actions that surged the events of the prophecy into motion. It was his own fear of death that gave birth to the instrument of his defeat. Albus knew that Voldemort would never leave Harry alone, not until the boy was dead or dying. In another time Albus may have sought to protect him from this fate, now though after meeting him he knew that would be for naught. He would rebel if they sought to control him, he would see a safety net as a cage.

After the tournament he would tell him everything. He would give him the tools to fight his own battles, but always be there should he need guidance or help. In the meantime he would meditate and try to understand this new magic. With a smile Albus Dumbledore sat cross legged on the stone floor of his office, and listened.

Harry found himself wandering aimlessly through the halls of Hogwarts. Not sure exactly where he was going and not truly caring in the least. He would open a door every now and again and peer inside, finding abandoned classrooms or just empty rooms altogether. A few of the doors lead to know where, other seemed to be painted on but strikingly realistic until one reached for the handle. It was an odd little walk and he found himself enjoying the moving staircases quite a bit. Snag had fun gliding to the next floor when he found himself going downstairs.

After a while the students began to filter back into the castle. Harry found himself the subject of quite a few stares. He did look rather out of place, he mused. With his muggle clothing and his odd flying squirrel creature. He took the not so covert glances in stride and stuck to a tried and true method he had learned in his journeys. If you don't act like a tourist you won't look like a tourist. So he never let his eyes linger on one thing for to long taking solace in the fact that he would have plenty of time to get to know the castle. He walk with confidence as if he actually knew where he was going despite having no place to go anyway.

It seemed to work as less people noticed him right away and he only had to deal with their stares at his back. It was another twenty minuets later that Harry was ascending a spiraling staircase in the west side of the castle. He was smiling to himself at the discovery. He just loved the novelty of a spiraling staircase, he just had to orchestrate a sword fight down or up it. Preferably both. He reached the top of the staircase and took in the expertly crafted bronze knocker that sat in the center of the knob-less ('Is that even a word') door.

It was a beautifully crafted piece, the bust of an eagle with a thick bronze ring clutched in its beak. Harry would have examined it further had it not chosen that moment to speak.

"What is the voice of the earth?" Spoke the knocker in a deep bass.

Harry pondered the question for a moment, well, not so much the question itself as much as why the knocker was asking it. In the end his curiosity won out and so he answered.

"The powerful beating of the drum."

The knockers beak closed and it seemed to gnaw on the bronze ring before reply; "Well spoken."

Harry was in the middle of a celebratory self administered pat on the back when the door swung open. Most eyes in the room were immediately drawn to him. Harry sighed as the whispering began. He noted that he room was dominated by a color scheme of blue on bronze. The carpets were blue where as the silk curtains that hung around its many windows were blue lined with gleaming bronze. The entire room seemed to be naturally lit and looked quite a lot like a high class library with many plush couches and chairs. He was about to bow out of the room when Snag, the little devil, scrambled over top his head and into the room. He watched as the little guy scampered between the legs of a few students and out of sight.

"Why," Came a soft voice sounding like a yell amidst the whispers. " if it isn't Snag, its been ages hasn't it?"

"I know that voice." Harry said as he pushed past a few students.

Curled up on a bay window cushion, her long pale blond hair splayed over a pillow was Luna Lovegood. She had a small book laying flat on her folded knees and was petting Snag just between his horns as she knew he liked. She looked up at him a small serene smile on her lips.

"You brought Harry with you as well," She said." how nice."

Harry put on his best hurt face; "Luna cares more about the Snorkack than she does me. So much for my first ever friend, what world!"

Choosing to ignore her housemates gawking Luna set Snag down beside her along with her book before standing up. She dusted off her skirt and griped her hands behind her back leaning forward to get a good look at Harry's face. Leaning back again she grasped a corner of his jack lifting it up to expose his suspenders and shirt. She then dropped it and took a step to the right her eyes trailing up and down his form. She made a circle about him in this fashion before standing right in front of him again and with a small smile said:

"You dress funny."

Thoroughly gob smacked Harry flapped his mouth for a moment before coming up with the perfect response:

"No, you."

She took herself in from her mismatched socks to here butter beer cork necklace, and her dirigible plum earrings. Then with a nod, finding that all was well, responded:

"Yes, but that's hardly the point."

Harry laughed long and hard finding it remarkable how very straight faced Luna could say something like that. A slight upturn of her lip gave away the statement as a joke.

"Well Luna," He said after catching his breath. "I was hoping, now that I have kept my promise of coming here, that we could be friends like I wanted to be when we were younger."

Luna nodded; "I have always been your friend Harry. Though I will admit it was quite a wait, I knew you would keep your pr-ah-mis!"

Luna gasped as she was caught mid sentence in a hug. Harry squeezed her tight about the waist and lifted her lighter frame into the air.

"Haven't broken one yet Luna!" He laughed.

Luna meanwhile had taken to placing a hand over he eyes and scouting like a sailor from the crows nest.

"The view is rather nice from up here," She noted. "Cho I think I see that jumper you lost just behind the shelf there!"

"So," Spoke one of the female students. "Loo-er-Luna was telling the truth after all? She was childhood friends with Harry Potter? He really had a pet Crumple-Horned Whatsit named Snag?"

Harry, who was still playing periscope for Luna, nodded in the affirmative.

"I met her when I was just ten years old," Harry said." she was cute little blond girl with a beret and an easel."

Above them Luna fought to stave of a small blush and remain aloof from her perch scouting out the Ravenclaw common room. Over the years she had developed a small crush on Harry. She knew rationally that the crush was on the idea of Harry rather than the person. Though she considered him a friend she knew very little about him. In first year her odd fashion sense and demeanor had alienated her from her housemates. Despite this she wanted to make friends, and out of desperation had used her friendship with Harry to try and garner attention. In the end it had the opposite effect, she was "Loony-Lovegood" with her imaginary friend "Harry Potter" and his pet Crumple-Horned Snorkack Snag.

It was a foolish thing to do and she should never have used Harry like that to begin with, she realized now. She also realized that even if they though her a liar she still had Harry and his promise. One day he'd come and offer her his friendship again. A darker part of her hoped it would happen soon to spite the people who shunned her, but that just wouldn't be her she could never rub something like that in someones face. So she waited isolated and she latched on to the idea of Harry. Who could blame and adolescent girl if those fantasies of offered friendship sometimes lingered on to soft kisses and held hands atop the astronomy tower. No one that's who!

Still, she knew that this Harry and that Harry were to separate things. She looked forward to getting to know this Harry, her friend. Even if a small traitorous part of her heart held on to the idea that there could be more one day.

She was jostled quite forcefully from her thoughts by a sudden drop and a light thump as her feet hit the carpet.

"I think you've seen all you can see eh, Luna?" Harry asked.

"Here yes," She responded airily. "but we will have to do it again someplace, its remarkable what a few feet can do to change your perspective."

Harry laughed; "I know what you mean."

Harry lead Luna from the searching eyes of the Ravenclaw common room and into the halls of Hogwarts. They were subject to even more stares, but neither payed much attention. Luna was leading Harry to the great hall.

"Harry Potter!" Another familiar voice.

"Well,well," Harry said turning on a dime." Hermione I was wondering when you'd turn up."

There she stood in all her glory her frizzy mane slightly tamer than he last saw it and her frown fighting back a smile.

"Two years," She said marching over to him. "two years I waited."

"For the record," Harry stated."Luna waited longer."

Luna waved.

"Noted." Hermione grunted looking him over. "Your still wearing that?"

"What is wrong with the way I dress?" He questioned. "Honestly? Is it the suspenders? 'Cause I draw the line at getting rid of the suspenders!"

"Well if those don't go whats the point of getting rid of anything?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, its all too monochromatic anyway." Luna added kneeling down to lift up a leg on his pants." Look at these socks, plain white quite bland."

"Are we done picking apart my wardrobe?" Harry asked taking a step away from the probing girls.

"For now," Luna said offhandedly. "but I will be getting you some better socks..."

Hermione stared blankly at Luna for a few moments.

"Oh," Harry said." I forgot. Luna, Hermione Granger. Hermione, Luna Lovegood."

"Lovegood," Hermione began." as in The Quibbler?"

"Yes," Luna replied. "that's Daddy's magazine."

"I have a subscription." Hermione said avidly. "the runic puzzle pages help a lot with my Ancient Runes class. And the zoological pieces, while somewhat outlandish, are handle very seriously enough so that I was forced to rethink my ideas on what is and is not real."

"I will admit that Daddy can get carried away," Luna smiled. "if Mummy wasn't there to curb his wilder ideas I think the magazine would be a wholly different publication."

"So," Hermione began addressing Harry. "this Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"It's a fine enough excuse to visit as any." Harry stated. "Should be fun, and whoever entered me must have had a reason. That reason, whatever it is, will reveal itself in time I am guessing. I don't know of any enemies I may have so I have no leads, waiting game it is. In the meantime, free food, a warm bed, and good friends."

Harry tossed a arm over both girls shoulders drawing out to unseen blushes.

"What more could I ever ask for?"

**~End~**

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**I apologize for lateness, family matters got in the way.**

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